


Alone in the Cave

by Dyzzyah



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dyzzyah/pseuds/Dyzzyah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Introspection by Nepeta</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone in the Cave

**Author's Note:**

> Oops I accidentally sadstuck. Sorry?

Your name is Nepeta Leijon, and you are crying.

Today you had a successful hunt, winning food for yourself and your lusus, a fine new pelt to play with, and blood to use as paint. You were skilled and graceful and strong, and the beast put up a thrilling fight. It was a perfect hunt. It should have been a good day. But today, like after so many good days, you are huddled in a corner of your cave, alone and waiting for your lusus to return, never knowing for sure if he will come back in hours or days, or—if he gets hurt or bored enough—ever.

You’re used to it, though; the waiting. You’re used to waiting for things you can’t be certain will ever happen. You’re also used to waiting for things you know will never come. Being used to it does not mean you are numb, though, and you’ve cried enough times already to prove it.

You envy cats. Cats don’t cry. Cats are cute and unconcerned and people like them. Cats either eat or sleep or play or mate, or they don’t. No drama, no fuss, no anxiety. Just, either they do a thing or they don’t. If a thing upsets a cat, it leaves; if a thing pleases a cat, it stays. No dwelling. No mourning. Certainly no tears. Is that why cats are so liked? Maybe, maybe not, but you have become very practiced at not crying around anyone else. Maybe, if you get it down just right, they’ll like you.

Equius likes you already, that much is true. He is the best moirail you could ever have asked for; you balance each other out so well. He’s bossy and domineering, no doubt about it, but he genuinely tries to protect you, and you love him for it. But, he can’t hug you. He can’t touch your cheek or stroke your hair or scratch that one spot behind your ear that feels so good, he can’t hold your hand or put an arm around you when you’re sad and hurting. He tried to, once, sweeps ago, when you had only recently met; he patted you on the shoulder, and broke it. Complex fractures of the clavicle, scapula, and the head of the humerus, from one friendly pat. You lost complete use of that arm for weeks, and it was months before you healed completely; you were in agony, and both you and your lusus would have died of starvation if Equius hadn’t brought you food.

Equius hasn’t touched you since.

You can touch him, though, and you do; you hug him as hard as you possibly can, whenever you get the chance, which is usually every few months. You play with his hair and you curl up in his lap and you snuggle up to his side, and he lectures you on how improper you’re being, but you don’t care, because the alternative is to never be touched at all.

So, if you’re lucky, maybe twice in the dark season and twice in the dim season, you can see the only person who loves you, even though you talk to him every day. There is no way you can bring yourself to tell him how this makes you feel. It would crush him. Crush him like…well, anything in his grip, really. So, instead of asking him for advice or help with this isolated feeling, you cheer him on, as he trains and fights and gets even stronger, and you feel even further from him than ever.

Not to say that you don’t have other friends! But Tavros is so, so allergic to your lusus, and, as long as you live in his cave, lined with shed hair and things he rubs himself against, you can never get all of his dander quite off of you. You and Tavros have agreed that, for the time being, it might be best to stay online-friends only, or at least not share any confined space. You’ve thought about visiting Terezi, but that idea sank when you learned how far away she lived. Many of your friends live too far away to travel to, and the ones that live closer? You like them, too, but something in you wonders if they only tolerate you, and don’t actually like you.

And then there’s Karkat.

You’ve felt flushed for him for a long time; you don’t even know why, but he has something about him that you can’t stop yourself from pitying. Everything about him either makes you want to hold him close and keep him for your own, or feel him do the same for you. Under all the layers of florid ranting, the ever-present anger, the self-hate, and the absolute dissertations of insults, you know him for a loyal, true, and caring troll. No matter how far he launched himself across his own personal rage spectrum, you can’t help but find him entirely endearing. If he pitied you like you pity him, you would be the happiest troll in the Empire, and you would give anything, do anything, be anything to please him.

Hell, you would, even if he didn’t pity you.

Fitting, you suppose, because he never will.

You know that he avoids you. Someone said it’s probably because he feels awkward around you, but you can’t be sure if it’s that or if he dislikes you. You hope it isn’t dislike, you try so hard to be likeable, but it probably doesn’t matter in the end. Either way, what is, is. That’s how cats deal with things. What is, is.

But you have tried to be likeable…you’ve tried so hard. You’ve spent sweeps, making and practicing and being as cute and sweet and adorable as you possibly can. You’ve learned to amuse yourself and be cheerful and be someone people can count on to amuse them and cheer them up too. You've learned to support any of your friends with their relationships, no matter how small and lonely you feel. You’ve learned how to be laughed at, and you’ve gotten a lot of practice at that. It’s fine, though, you’ve learned how to not get mad about it, even when it hurts you. You’ve learned how to smile and bubble and giggle, to distract yourself when someone says something hurtful. You’ve learned to forgive, and to giggle, and if all else fails, to fake it. Even Equius has trouble telling when you’re upset, and you feel proud of that. You’ve learned, not to be blank and unexpressive, but instead to express something else entirely; you are a master at misdirection. It’s kind of fun, if you think about it. It’s like roleplay. You can do that. You are simply the best roleplayer there is. All you have to do is be cute and wonderful. You play your character as sad or angry often—what kind of character never gets upset? You have to be realistic, after all—over some little thing, and you huff and you puff and you chew your hat and you growl until it seems like you’re genuinely upset over this, and not any of the other things that actually bother you. It adds to the realism of the scenario. It makes for a more convincing troll. So you use your cat puns, and your roleplay, and your games and your quirks and your finely-crafted character, and hope that you convince everyone you’re worth pitying. Maybe, maybe if you were really lucky, and really good, even Karkat would see it, and he would make you so happy when he told you he pities you…when he kisses you, and runs his fingers through your hair, and tells you how much he wants you in his life…

But no, that won’t happen.

You know this to be true.

You are alone in your cave; the fire is dying, and you can’t find it in you to add fuel to it. Distractions and sporadic, too-brief visits aside, no one is coming to save you from your solitude. No one is coming to take you away, to hold your hand or dry your tears or tell you it’s okay.

No one is coming for you; they never do, and they likely never will.

You're used to it.


End file.
